


Mardi Gras, 1876

by hyrulehobbit



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Asthmatic Hosea, Dancing, Drinking, Dutch Brand impulsive behaviour and paranoia, First Kiss, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hosea POV, Hosea in denial, Intimacy, M/M, Making Out, Mardi Gras, Pre-Canon, Pre-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Sharing a Bed, Young Dutch van der Linde, Young Hosea Matthews, and there was only one bed, not even super fluffy but anything that isn't outright angst counts as fluff for these two lbr, so much pickpocketing, the barest mention of Walt Whitman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27711967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyrulehobbit/pseuds/hyrulehobbit
Summary: Dutch didn’t respond at first, as though he hadn’t really heard. When Hosea’s words finally reached him, his head snapped around to look at him. He looked disbelieving, almost confused.“What?” He clarified, quietly.Hosea shrugged coyly, nerves creeping in suddenly that he forcibly had to shake off, as he offered Dutch his hand and repeated himself.“Dance with me.”---In the spring of '76, Dutch convinces Hosea to take a detour on their journey west to experience the Mardi Gras festivities in New Orleans. Together they drink, dance, rob the people blind, and maybe begin to address the unspoken thing that's been growing between them.
Relationships: Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 13
Kudos: 45





	Mardi Gras, 1876

“Mr Matthews! Come and take a look at this.”

Dutch called to him, gesturing with the newspaper in his hands, as Hosea emerged from the general store of the small town of Old Pine they had lately been haunting. Hosea walked past the bench outside of the store where Dutch was sat, heading straight to his horse to offload his armfuls of their groceries. Honestly purchased, with ill-gotten money.

Hosea’s horse, Horatio, did not miss the paper bag of apples he carried in his arms, sniffing after him whilst he attempted to load the saddlebag with cans of food, cheese wrapped in cloth and bars of soap.

“Alright, you big brute.” Hosea muttered fondly, slipping his needy horse an apple to crunch on before stashing the rest away and hoping Hamlet, Dutch’s equally needy horse, didn’t notice.

“Any time today would be nice, Hosea.” Dutch called to him impatiently, hiding behind the pages of the paper so he couldn’t see Hosea scowl at him. Hosea scowled at him nonetheless.

“Oh that’s fine, just sit there and watch me struggle.”

“Don’t mind if I do, thank you.” Dutch quipped back without missing a beat. He peered over the top of the paper, smug, and Hosea rolled his eyes. Neither fought the urge to smile. Hosea had been putting up with the man for coming up to a year now, and despite Dutch’s penchant for stubbornness and apparent need to deliberately annoy him for his own amusement, Hosea didn’t truly mind. They would have parted ways months ago if he did, but somehow, Hosea found himself making excuse after excuse to stay.

Groceries packed, he finally made his way over to where Dutch sat, impatiently waiting to tell him about whatever thrilling thing he had just discovered. “Alright Dutch, what is it?”

“Here, here.” Dutch said excitedly, beckoning him over and spreading the paper open so Hosea could lean over his shoulder to read. “Have you heard of the _Mardi Gras_ parade?”

Hosea chewed his lip thoughtfully as his eyes quickly skimmed the headline. _Mardi Gras_ . Dutch’s gruff drawl made it sound a little more like _Mordy Graw._

“Mm, can’t say I have.” Hosea replied. This answer seemed to delight Dutch, as it meant he had the opportunity to explain it with great excitement.

“Listen,” he began, clearing his throat as he read aloud from the article “ _Mardi Gras is a celebration held by the people of New Orleans, Louisiana, to mark the day before the people of the city begin their fast for Lent. It is a colorful festival of music, dancing, and revelry culminating in a carnival parade, where people dress in all manner of costume and masks. The mayor of New Orleans wishes to welcome tourists to the city to see this marvellous spectacle and experience the delights of Mardi Gras this Shrove Tuesday, March Fifth.”_

Dutch finished reading aloud, and looked up at Hosea with an expectant expression. Hosea blinked back at him.

“...Alright.” He nodded, unsure as to what Dutch was wanting him to say, and he turned to head back to where their horses were hitched. He smiled to himself, as he heard Dutch sputtering behind him.

“What? That’s all you’re saying?” Dutch asked, getting swiftly to his feet to follow Hosea and folding the newspaper noisily.

“What is it you want me to say, Dutch?”

“Say you want to go!”

Hosea paused in unhitching Horatio “... Do _you_?” He asked, bewildered.

“I thought I was making that obvious, yes.” Dutch beamed at him, and Hosea stared.

“You.” Hosea said, derisively. “ _You_ want to go _south_ , Dutch? You want to go to Louisiana?” They were currently passing through the southern half of Missouri on their journey west, and Hosea thought Dutch had made it abundantly clear that this was as far south as he ever wanted to venture. Hosea received a roll of the eyes for his troubles.

“No, I do not want to ‘ _go south’_ , Hosea.” He grumbled, feeding his black stallion a treat from his pocket. “I want to go to New Orleans, just for the day, to see this festival.”

Hosea chewed his lip and shook his head "That's gotta be three days ride at least-" He estimated "And just to see a parade?" 

"Day and a half's ride and a _train_." Dutch corrected smugly, hauling himself up onto Hamlet's saddle. “The timing is perfect! We’ll be there just in time for Tuesday.”

"You've really thought about this one, haven't you." Hosea replied, sensing the inevitable defeat that was coming his way. He pulled himself up onto his own horse and led the way away from the general store and down the road out of town. Dutch followed, until they rode side by side.

"Course I have. I'm always planning." Hosea wasn't looking at Dutch, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of a grin in his voice. 

“You hate big cities, Dutch.” Hosea stated, still sceptical.

“I do.” Dutch agreed plainly, “I think they are the worst places on this earth, but-” He looked about, waited until passers by in the street were out of earshot “One cannot deny that they provide the best opportunities for robbing.”

"If it's robbing you want to do, there's a perfectly good sized town near here that isn't a day and half's ride and a train away. Why can't we go there?" 

"We certainly could just go to the next town over. But oh Hosea, where is the fun in that!" Dutch looked at him, ducking his head to try and catch Hosea's eye under the brim of his hat. Hosea tried to stubbornly avoid his gaze but caught it by accident anyway, and Dutch's grin turned victorious. Hosea's mouth twitched. 

"Think about it, Hosea. You heard what that article said! They're trying to bring in as many tourists as possible! Tourists with full pockets so distracted by drink and revelry that they won't even see you coming."

Hosea thought about it.

"See, I can see you coming around to it!" Dutch teased, and this time the twitch of Hosea's mouth spread into a full irrepressible smile. The inevitable defeat. "And why shouldn't we have a little fun ourselves?" Dutch continued "A city-wide party, where we can engage in a little merriment all whilst robbing the people blind."

Hosea wondered why he ever attempted to resist Dutch's whims and wiles in the first place, when he would buckle and give in under Dutch's nagging and persuasion every time. 

"Well. I suppose it sounds appealing when you put it like that-" 

“Hah, see! I knew it. You will love it, Hosea. _We_ will love it.” Dutch said emphatically. He looked ecstatic in his victory. He always did, when he managed to rope Hosea into his schemes. “And-” He continued “Before you begin to worry about the pickings being slim and the trip being a waste of time… _so what_?” Dutch said, and Hosea looked over at him curiously, at the smile playing in his dark eyes. “As long as we have some fun, going any place with you is never a waste of time, my dear friend.” He continued, overwhelming in his sincerity as always. Hosea always felt laid bare under his shining honesty. He took a breath, and he gave in.

“Alright then. We’ll go.” He agreed, unable to fend off his own smile anymore. “It’s not like this is the craziest idea you’ve ever had.” Hosea had to remember, sometimes, to allow Dutch a few concessions. He had ten years of lived experience over the younger man after all, and he had seen many places and sights that Dutch had not. If he wanted to see a street carnival, Hosea was willing to indulge him. Just this once.

“Perfect! Perfect.” Dutch chattered away excitedly. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow. You will have a wonderful time Hosea, I’m certain of it.”

“If you keep on saying that I’ll insist on having a terrible time just to be contrary.” Hosea chirped back at him. Dutch just huffed a laugh, drawing his horse in so he could reach over and shove Hosea on the arm. Hosea shoved him back and laughed, spurring Horatio onwards and turning their ride back to their camp into a race. Just one of the many games that had become a habit with the two of them, over the course of the past ten months or so.

Ten months felt like a lifetime, and yet it had passed in the blink of an eye. It had passed in a joyful, comfortable blur.

Back at their modest camp, in the vast uninhabited expanse between small towns, Hosea tended the horses while Dutch hunkered down over a map, talking to himself about their travel plans for the days ahead. He brushed Horatio’s dappled grey and black coat, untangling the road dust from his glossy mane, but the horse turned his head and lipped at his arm, impatient for treats.

“Alright, alright. No manners in you I swear. Nor you!” Hosea spoke to both horses as Hamlet began to stomp his hooves, demanding his fair share of attention. Hosea pacified them both with a carrot each.

He had been reluctant to let himself feel affection towards the stallion, but Horatio had bullied his way into Hosea’s good graces anyway. The loss of his previous horse, a sandy mare named Fiona, had hurt him more than he cared to admit. She was old, and it had pained him greatly to put a kind bullet in her head after she twisted her leg. Of course, the very next day Dutch had awoken him with reins in his hands and not one but two new horses in tow.

_Aren’t they beautiful, Hosea? A bonded pair, like brothers, the stablehand told me! A bonded pair! Just like you and me._

Dutch had sold his own red stallion Samson so that he could purchase them both, unable to bring himself to break up the pair. And of course, Dutch had named them, as only he could, with his love of good names and his flair for the dramatic.

Hosea looked up from doting on the horses to see Dutch watching him, his expression unguarded and fond.

“What?” Hosea asked.

“Oh nothin’. Just nice to see the three of you getting along.”

“Sure.” Hosea replied, finishing up and stashing the brush away in Horatio’s saddlebag. He dusted off his hands, retrieved some things for their dinner, and made his way over to where Dutch was sat cross-legged, murmuring to himself. Dutch talked aloud to himself when he was knee-deep in some great plan, Hosea had noticed. He tried not to give too much thought to the notion that he found it amusing, perhaps even endearing, or the fact that he had been running with Dutch long enough to notice things about him at all.

“What is the plan of action then?” Hosea asked, dropping himself comfortably next to Dutch and passing him a red apple.

“Well, it’s fairly straightforward. We keep southeast, stopping here, here and here-” He prodded the map “ - along the way, til we hit Meridian. Then the train shoots us the rest of the way.”

“Hm.” Hosea said, biting into a chunk of bread and cheese. “Still seems an awful long journey just for one day, Dutch. We gotta make the journey back too, remember.”

“Not a drop of faith in me, honestly. I tell you it’ll be worth your while, Hosea! _I_ will make it worth your while.” Dutch grinned and lowered his voice. The end of the sentence was laced with mischief and Hosea levelled Dutch with a glare, choosing to ignore it as he had done with every other instance of Dutch’s mischief that had occurred over the past several months.

He wasn’t sure when Dutch’s compliments, flirts, and blatant passes had strayed from the clear realm of joking and into something a little more ambiguous. But Hosea didn’t read into it. He _chose_ not to read into it. If he looked too hard, he feared he might find something hidden in the clumsy bond that had formed between them that he wasn’t quite ready to see yet.

Dutch was all talk anyway.

Hosea gave him a hearty shove, forcing a laugh out of him, and they finished dinner in companionable quiet. When it came to sleep, an arms length away from each other, Hosea thought about the silliness of this idea behind closed eyes. Dutch had many impulses, and this was far from one of his more ridiculous or dangerous ones, but Hosea still wondered if letting him act on it was a poor choice. It was too late for that though. Why he’d enamoured himself with the idea of Mardi Gras, he had no idea. But once Dutch latched onto something and the gears of his mind were set into frenetic motion, that was that. Hosea sighed, and let sleep take him.

Tomorrow morning, they would start for Louisiana.

* * *

The journey down through Arkansas was relatively straightforward, and the air got thicker the further south they ventured. Dutch rambled most of the way, and Hosea let him, talking in an endless excited stream about the grift ahead and his disdain for the people in this part of the country. This was made even more clear by the way his words dropped off into nothing whenever a traveller passed them on the road, Dutch regarding them in angry silence until they were out of earshot again.

“I don’t like these people, Hosea.”

“I know.”

It all made Hosea wonder why Dutch was dragging them through Confederate country in the first place. By the time they made camp in the late evening, exactly at the time Dutch had estimated and not a second later, the horses were exhausted and the night felt far too hot for this time of year. The stickiness of the air made his breathing sharp and shallow and he bravely tried his best not to wheeze as he sat by their tiny campfire.

“I did not think about how the air down here would affect you.” Dutch said, placing a gentle apologetic hand onto his shoulder “Forgive me, dear Hosea.”

“Nor I. S’fine.” Hosea choked out. He tried and failed to brush off Dutch’s fussing hands, and begrudgingly accepted his waterskin even though it would do little to help. It cooled him down a little at the very least, and he splashed some water onto his hand to wet the back of his neck. Dutch gave him another, slightly awkward pat.

Hosea closed his eyes and tipped his head back towards the stars, attempting to deepen his breathing and untangle the tightness in his lungs. He didn’t have to have his eyes open to know Dutch was watching him, the weight of his gaze was tangible.

“Why’ve you really dragged us all the way down here, Dutch?” Hosea asked quietly, his voice sounding a little stronger. He opened his eyes and looked to his left, and as predicted Dutch’s eyes were focused on him like he was something fascinating.

“Must there always be an ulterior motive, Hosea?” He replied, offended.

“With you?” Hosea smirked “Almost always, yes.”

“Well,” Dutch inhaled and exhaled, shifting his shoulders in a shrug “There ain’t any other reason, not this time.” There was a warmth to his voice and countenance, a softness that Hosea had seen before on occasion. He tilted his head to regard Dutch with curiosity and the other man smiled back at him, the firelight turning his dark eyes a bright amber. “Does there need to be a reason for me to want to have some fun with you? For us to see new places together?”

Hosea’s mouth felt a little dry, and he swallowed as though that would help it. He shook his head.

“No.” He replied plainly, and Dutch’s smile grew.

“Then stop your worrying and let’s have some _fun,_ Hosea!” He clapped a hand on Hosea’s forearm and gave him a shake “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your sense of adventure already, have you?”

Hosea scoffed and shoved him off, his mood lightening and his breathing getting easier by the second “No, course not. Never.” He grinned sharply.

“Good!” Dutch said around a laugh, “Good. Your sense of adventure is what drew us together in the first place.” His gaze left Hosea and fell back to the fire, and Hosea heard a quiet sigh as Dutch leant forwards with his elbows on his knees, wringing his hands together. “You and I both know that I have little love for this great country. But, still, part of me wants to see as much of it as I can. To know that there’s people in it that are worth something, that there’s some joys worth experiencing. Even in this wretched South.”

Once again Hosea was taken back by the brazen honesty that Dutch was capable of, of the unashamed naivety and passion that lived within him. It felt like something rare, something worth preserving. Hosea reached out to him, patting his shoulder and keeping his hand there, his arm forming a bridge between them.

“There is, Dutch.” He assured, “There’s always some good worth seeing. Might that be the people of New Orleans parading around tomorrow? Eh, probably not! But we’ll have seen it anyway!”

Dutch laughed, and it was his turn to shove Hosea off. “Oh you do have a way of saying the right thing when I need it, Hosea.”

“I know I do.”

They shared a smile, and the silence that settled between them was easy and comfortable, like slipping into a favourite jacket.

The following morning, they rose with the sun. Meaning that Hosea, being the early riser, awoke just as the sky was lightening and once he’d brewed a pot of coffee, he kicked Dutch awake and forced a hot cup of it into his hands. They washed up in the small nearby creek. Hosea shaved in his pocket mirror as Dutch fought his daily battle with his curly hair, beating it into submission with an obscene amount of pomade. Dutch grumbled about the early start but stubbornly stuck to his own plan, and they rode into Meridian just as the high noon sun reached its peak, beating down heavily onto their backs.

Dutch had shaken off his dour mood from the early morning as they rode into the town, and by the time they had stabled their horses and purchased their train tickets, his rising excitement was palpable. 

“Day and half’s ride and a train, Hosea, what’d I tell you.” He said, quiet and excitable, patting at Hosea’s arm as they took their seats.

“You told me a day and a half’s ride and a train, Dutch.” Hosea echoed back to him. Dutch chuckled, and the pair of them sat back in their seats and watched like predators at a feast as the train filled up with rich ladies tittering behind their fans and rich gentlemen with more money than sense.

“We having the same thoughts?” Dutch leaned in and spoke low into his ear.

“Oh absolutely.” Hosea agreed quietly “Save it til we’re reaching our destination though, we don’t wanna get caught and kicked off.”

“I hear you.” Dutch nodded, spreading his arms across the back of their seat with a smug grin, his eyes roaming the other passengers “God, why is it only the worst of the upper crust that seem to ride the train?” He noted with distaste, and Hosea elbowed him in the ribs as a lady looked at them with extreme offense. Thankfully, the screaming whistle of the train as they pulled out of the station covered their suppressed laughs and snickers, and the train began to slowly chug south.

Hosea was surprised by the greenness of the scenery. In his mind he’d pictured nothing but dry barrenness, but far from the train tracks he could see lush trees and bodies of water shimmering on the horizon. This was swamp land after all, he supposed. 

“Louisiana.” Dutch mused out loud next to him, looking past Hosea’s face to watch the landscape fly past out the window. “What a place indeed.”

“I prefer the Northern half of our country.” Hosea said, decisive and Dutch huffed.

“Oh, you and I both my friend, make no mistake. But, Hosea. Did you know-” Dutch leaned in, conspiratorial. Hosea braced himself “That the great Walt Whitman once lived in Louisiana? In New Orleans, no less!”

Hosea wasn’t going to grant him the satisfaction on this one.

“Yes, I did know that.” He said, cutting off the monologue before it happened and pretending to be interested in checking the time on his pocket watch. However, this did little to deter Dutch. If anything, it encouraged him.

“Well then, you will know that he only stayed for three months, but in those three months he produced some of his finest work! Three months in this city and he had a, an epiphany! An awakening!” Dutch became more animated as he spoke “The _Populous City_ , of which he wrote? New Orleans, of course.” Hosea found himself unable to pretend to ignore him, so he offered a small smile and nodded. It was suddenly much clearer where Dutch’s romantic ideas of the city had come from. 

“Yes, I have read that one.” Hosea replied, and Dutch smiled. They always preferred each other as equals in a symposium, rather than lecturer and student. “Though I feel, at least in that particular work he was less enamoured with the city and more so with the man.”

“Is that so?” Dutch asked, but it didn’t feel like a question. His words and gaze felt heavier upon Hosea and when Hosea looked to him, Dutch’s eyes were roaming his face slowly as though he wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but was enjoying the journey. When his eyes settled on his mouth, Hosea looked away. “Yes, it’s so.” He said with finality, and Dutch gave a quiet huff next to him.

They fell into silence for the remainder of the journey, scoping out targets on the train instead, giving each other little nods and nudges and silent signals as to who they should and shouldn’t rob. A well practiced language that the two of them had learned to speak. 

As the train pulled to a stop in New Orleans and the conductor called for everyone to alight, they sprung into well-oiled motion, moving as though in a dance. Hosea offered to help a young lady with her luggage while Dutch relieved her of her jewellery. Dutch then feigned dropping his matchbook and as a gentleman stooped to retrieve it, Hosea took his billfold from his back pocket with ease. But really they needn’t have gone to such lengths, the general bustle of the people pouring from the train and the cacophonous chatter covered their tracks perfectly. They merged into the crowd as they alighted, Dutch grabbing his elbow and leading Hosea down the platform so they were long gone and perfectly camouflaged by the time anyone would notice the absence of their belongings.

The New Orleans air hit Hosea like a wall. It was solid and soupy, thick in the lungs. How could anywhere be so warm in March? Once Dutch had cut a snaking path for them through the crowds and around a corner out of the train station, Hosea tapped at his shoulder to get him to stop a moment.

“Let me catch my breath a minute, Dutch.” He said, leaning a hand against the nearest wall.

“Oh! Forgive me. You alright there?” Dutch stopped and turned to face him, and Hosea nodded.

“Fine.” Hosea assured, taking a few measured breaths, and he removed his hat to fan at himself a little “This air feels like molasses.”

“Doesn’t it just?” Dutch agreed with a little smile, but suddenly his head snapped up, his eyes curious. Distantly, there was the sound of music. Trumpets and trombones in a fanfare, the muffled rattle of drums. His dark eyes flicked to Hosea’s, full of energy and mischief as a grin spread on his face. “You hear that?”

“I do.” Hosea smiled. Feeling a little more adjusted to the climate, he put his hat back upon his head and peeled away from the wall. “Ready if you are. Let’s go.”

Dutch beamed, practically jumping on the spot, and he clapped Hosea on the bicep before they both set off in the direction of the sound of music and merriment.

“Oh Hosea, this is going to be good. The pickings we got off that train alone? We are about to have a very enjoyable day, my friend!” An amiable hand fell onto Hosea’s upper back and he allowed it, mirroring the gesture on Dutch’s back with their arms crossed over one another’s, as they laughed their way through the streets towards the heart of the festivities.

Even if it weren’t for the sound of music and revelry, it was easy to tell they were heading in the right direction. As they walked a pair of women raced paced them, clad in feathers and chasing each other in fits of giggles. Hosea spied what appeared to be a group of men heading in the same direction, wearing porcelain masks on their faces in the fashion of some rather unsettling circus clowns.

“Hosea I think we may have come underdressed.” Dutch joked, watching the masked men walk by and kicking a feather on the sidewalk that one of the girls had shed. Hosea laughed, and finally the main street came into view where the parade was taking place.

The music, unlike anything he had heard before, was jubilantly loud and seemed to be coming from every direction. Hosea could feel the drum beats in the soles of his boots. He truly wasn’t expecting there to be so many people, but the street was heaving with the biggest crowd he’d ever seen in one place. Over the heads of the people lining the streets he could see glimpses of wildly decorated horse-pulled floats sailing by, carrying figures in even wilder costumes. There seemed to be a constant cloud of paper streamers being thrown through the air.

“S’ a lot to take in, huh?” Dutch mused out loud to his right, and Hosea nodded.

“To say the very least.” He agreed. They spent a moment then just absorbing the sights and adjusting to the atmosphere. They would not be short of targets today, that much was certain. Over the noise, Hosea’s ears tuned into the sound of raucous laughter, his focus falling onto a group of impressively drunk young men. Sitting ducks.

He smiled, an expression that Dutch mirrored when he caught sight of it on Hosea’s face, and the pair of them moved towards their mark with practiced purpose.

“Enjoying your Mardi Gras, fellas?!” Hosea greeted them jovially as they squeezed past, clapping one of the drunken men on the shoulder. The blonde man beamed back at him, clumsily mirroring Hosea’s gesture and saying something cheerful, slurred, and incomprehensible in French.

Hosea came away with a pocket watch, Dutch with a coinpurse. 

“Do we have a plan for the day, an itinerary?” Hosea asked as they weaved through the crowd, having to raise his voice a little to be heard.

“None at all!” Dutch shrugged “We do as we please, take our time and enjoy the revelries! I would like, however, to find somewhere or someone worthy of donating our pickings to at the end of the day.”

“Of course.” Hosea nodded. He was confident that they would end the day with far more coin and trinkets than they would need between the two of them. “I guess we just take the day as it comes. Should we split up?”

“Sure.” Dutch agreed, already skimming the streets for his next target.

“If we don’t run into one another again, meet on this corner in one hour.” Hosea decreed, and they both checked their pocket watches. They nodded, Dutch gave him a parting squeeze on the arm, and Hosea watched him as he strolled off confidently down the street, towards a gaggle of ladies with enormous fans. Hosea grinned and turned on his heel, heading in the opposite direction.

Hosea took his time. They had all day to see the sights of the city and rob its people of everything they were worth, and he was in no rush. He stopped a while on the sidewalk, finding a spot in the crowd so he could watch the floats, the dancers and the groups of masked strangers go by in the parade. It was hard to resist the high spirits that were pervading the air, the good mood and feelings of celebration were infectious. 

A float went past, flanked by dancers on all sides, and they appeared to be throwing handfuls of beaded necklaces into the crowds. Some sailed through the air on Hosea’s right and several hands went into the air to catch them.

“Darn.” The lady next to him muttered, unsuccessful in her bid to catch some, but a set had fallen down onto Hosea’s shoe.

“Here, Miss.” He said, stooping to retrieve them. He held out the fistful of golden beads on string to her, and offered her a winning smile “May I?”

“Oh! Sure.” She blushed prettily, as Hosea strung them about her neck.

“And some for you too, sir!” A voice called, and Hosea turned to see one of the dancers come away from the group, with yet more beads in hand. The dancer, whom Hosea could only describe as a very pretty man with an impressive moustache wearing a shimmering beaded dress, draped a string of green beads around his neck and gave him a wide smile.

“Happy Mardi Gras, _cher_.”

“Sure.” Hosea replied, unable to think of a more suitable response, and he smiled and dipped his head as the dancer swirled away. Tipping his hat to the lady, Hosea slipped away to continue his exploration. She hadn’t noticed when he had taken her brooch in place of the beads.

The stickiness of the weather was beginning to get to him already, and he could feel the dampness of his brow under the rim of his hat. He removed it to fan himself again, as he ducked and weaved around the other festival goers. Hosea had stamped out any guilt from stealing long ago, and today he only felt the barest twinge of sympathy that these people should have learned to be more careful with their things. It was hardly his fault, when the wealthy chose to wear their riches like an invitation.

Dancing his way along, he managed to acquire two more sets of beads about his neck, two more coin purses and a silver cigarette case. Absently, he hoped Dutch wasn’t getting into too much trouble. Walking along lost in thought, he almost missed a group of young men sat on a doorstep away from the crowds, playing a game of cards. Hosea watched them a moment and then smiled to himself and straightened out his necktie, ready to approach them and fleece them for all they were worth. He decided he was quite enjoying the Mardi Gras after all.

Feeling only a little bit smug and on top of the world with his win, he headed back in the direction of the street corner he and Dutch had agreed to meet on, his pocketwatch informing him that he was more than five minutes late. The card game had gone on a little longer than he had anticipated. Picking up his walking pace, as quickly as was possible when the streets were so crowded, he was exactly ten minutes late when the street corner came into view. Dutch stood leaning against the wall with his arms folded, tapping his foot in a nervous gesture. Hosea waved to him to catch his eye, weaving around a couple who seemed content to walk at a snail's pace.

“Sorry I’m late, got caught up in something.” Hosea apologised, giving Dutch a sheepish grin that immediately fell when he saw the expression on the other man’s face. His eyes were wide and distant. He was looking at Hosea, and yet he seemed to be looking right through him, dazed and distracted. He looked almost afraid.

“Dutch?” Hosea asked low, and he watched his Adam's apple heave as Dutch swallowed thickly.

“Sorry-” Dutch replied in a hoarse whisper. His eyes darted down to the ground and then back up to Hosea’s face for a silent moment, looking at him with an almost unsettling intensity. “Thought. Thought for a second you weren’t coming back.” He shook his head hard, as though it would loosen the fearful thoughts that were tangled inside.

Hosea’s breath halted a second. He had only been delayed ten minutes. 

He had seen Dutch get frightened like this once before. Hosea had been late back from hunting, because Horatio had got spooked by a snake and had thrown him. When he’d finally made it back to camp with a turkey for dinner and a sore ankle, Dutch had looked at him like he was a ghost returned from the grave. He had hoped that their months together had meant the end of this strange fear that Hosea might turn tail and abandon him at the drop of a hat. Carefully, he reached out across the space between them and gave Dutch two soft punches on the arm.

“Nonsense.” He assured him, softly “I was only delayed coz I was busy cheating to high hell at cards.” He offered a cautious smile, and slowly he watched as the disquiet melted out of Dutch’s eyes, turning them warm again. Dutch exhaled a barely audible laugh and he nodded, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Course. Of course you were.” Dutch visibly relaxed as his fear faded, and so did Hosea now that Dutch’s feet were firmly back on the ground. “What did you win?”

“I wanna hear about your takes first.” Hosea encouraged him, and Dutch glanced around to make sure they weren’t being eavesdropped on, before smiling smugly and leaning forwards to open his satchel and show Hosea the contents. There was an impressive amount of purses, some banknotes and various trinkets and-

“Are those handcuffs?”

“Yeah.” Dutch grinned. “I’ll tell you the story later. Your turn.”

“Oh, about the same as you.” Hosea said modestly, and finally revealed the large and expensive bottle of champagne he had won in cards that he’d been holding behind his back for the entirety of their conversation. Dutch barked a laugh.

“You never cease to surprise, Hosea. You won that in cards?” Dutch managed to look both amused and impressed.

“Sure did. Course, it was stolen in the first place no doubt.” He grinned, inspecting the label on the bottle “Wanna crack it open?”

Dutch grabbed his sleeve in answer, shaking his head and looking past Hosea’s shoulder. “Not here. We gotta move.” He muttered low. Hosea nodded immediately and his feet were already moving, but he peered back over his own shoulder to see a city lawman who seemed to have recognised Dutch, trying to get at them through the crowds. They darted their way through the swarm as quickly as they were able, trying their best to get lost amongst the festival-goers as the shrill sound of the lawman’s whistle resounded behind them. 

“That the fool you stole the handcuffs from?” Hosea asked as quietly as he could.

“The very same, the idiot. Keep movin.” He could hear the cocky grin in Dutch’s voice. His grip on Hosea’s sleeve slipped down and they clasped hands, palms sweaty, taking the first turning left off the main street.

They clumsily half-walked, half-ran hand in hand, leaving chaos in their wake, but neither of them was truly concerned. If the man had been dull enough to let Dutch take the handcuffs from his belt, he certainly wasn’t quick or clever enough to catch them on a day like this.

“This way.” Hosea decided, pulling Dutch along and across the street, down an avenue on the right. There they slipped into a gap between two buildings, barely an alleyway, and they pressed their backs against opposite walls. They were close, less than an arms length apart, and they stood silently catching their breaths and waiting until they were confident that the law had lost them.

When it felt safe enough to speak, Hosea smiled at him “What did you even steal those god damn cuffs for anyway?” Dutch shrugged back at him.

“Fun, mostly. Because I could and wanted to piss off a lawman? No.” He smoothed back his hair, a curl or two had started to come loose with the heat of the day. “He was bothering another feller who as far as I could see hadn’t done a thing wrong. Took the handcuffs while he wasn’t looking… made the other guy smile at least.”

Hosea huffed out a laugh, a small surprised sound. There it was, that strange Dutch charm. It was the little things he did, things that no one else would think to do, just because they struck him as the right thing to do in that moment.

“What?” Dutch asked, attempting to read into the smile on Hosea’s face.

“Nothing. Fancy a drink?” He raised the bottle of champagne that had almost been forgotten in their hasty escape.

“Absolutely.” Dutch chuckled. Carefully, Hosea unwound the wire that covered the cork. He held the bottle away from them at arm's length, but it did little to protect them as he loosed the cork with an impressive _pop_ and a fountain of foam erupted from the bottle. It somehow managed to hit the both of them, soaking Dutch’s shirt and Hosea’s trousers, dripping onto his boots. Some of it even managed to get in Dutch’s hair, as clearly their run from the law had agitated the liquid more than they realised. Dutch gave a triumphant whoop, which turned into laughter as he wiped the champagne foam from the ends of his hair. This got Hosea laughing, which in turn made Dutch laugh even harder, and within seconds they had both slid to the ground with their heads tipped back against their respective walls, laughing helplessly.

Hosea wiped at the corner of his eyes, raising the bottle to Dutch in a cheers before taking the first swig. It went down like liquid gold, expensive stuff, and some spilled onto his chin. He held the bottle out to Dutch and grinned sharply, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Their fingers brushed and lingered as Dutch took the bottle, and Hosea watched him drink.

“Oh, that is good.” Dutch said, coughing a little as he swallowed. “We should go over our takes, see what we got.”

They sat comfortably in the alleyway, legs outstretched and knees touching. They passed the bottle back and forth and shared a meal of dried venison and biscuits from Hosea’s satchel, as late afternoon turned to early evening around them. The take was good, much better than expected. Between them was a sizeable pile of money and valuables, from which they took a small cut but no more than they needed.

“You got a lead on any people who might benefit from this?” Hosea inquired. They were almost at the bottom of the champagne bottle and his head felt pleasantly light. He gave the last sip to Dutch.

“Oh I think so. Spoke to a gentleman who mentioned that there’s a place in the centre of town providing aid to folks who used to be slaves. Food and shelter and such.” He drank the last of the champagne, setting the empty bottle down on the cobblestone with a dull clink.

Hosea nodded. Sounded like a fitting place to donate their new found riches to, however ill-gotten they may have been. “What do you make of this city then?” He asked Dutch, nudging the other man’s leg with the toe of his boot. Dutch sighed, chewing on his lip as he mulled over his answer.

“Same as most. A terrible, heartless, all-consuming place… but with good people in it. People who deserve better but cannot extract themselves from the machine that society has made them a cog in.”

Hosea thought on his words. “There’s always good people to be found. Good people in bad places, doing bad things.”

“Like us?” Dutch added, a smile in his eyes.

“Like us.” He smiled back “Think it was worth coming all the way down here for this festival then?”

Dutch replied by gesturing to their satchels full of riches and the empty bottle of champagne “Absolutely I do.” He grinned brightly “Have you not had fun, Hosea?”

“I have. I stand very corrected.”

“Well good!” Dutch laughed “You’ll learn to stop doubting my good ideas.”

“Not all your ideas are good ones.” Hosea countered “It was your good idea that got us arrested in Ohio.”

“Alright, I know that wasn’t my finest hour and you are still bitter about it. But credit where it is due, it was _your_ good idea that got us out of it.” Dutch spun the conversation around, offering a compliment as an apology. Hosea just rolled his eyes and smiled, tipping his head back against the wall. He could hear faint music a few blocks away, it seemed like it hadn’t stopped since they got off the train. One endless, exuberant song.

“Sounds like the party is far from over.” He thought aloud “What do you say we rejoin it?”

“I say we should, once we have given these goods to those who need it.” Dutch decided for them, standing up and dusting himself off. Their clothes were both still a little sticky from the spilled champagne but there was no remedying that now. He offered a rough, warm hand to Hosea and hauled him to his feet.

“Where did these come from?” Dutch asked, reaching out to toy with the coloured beads around Hosea’s neck. He was close, and Hosea didn’t mind it.

“Pretty feller in a dress.” Hosea told him, taking amusement from the surprise on Dutch’s face at the answer “I’m surprised you didn’t get any, people were tossing ‘em everywhere. Here.” He removed the gold coloured set of beads he was wearing, and carefully draped them around Dutch’s neck. Dutch puffed up with pride like he’d been adorned in the finest jewels.

“Thank you, my dear.” He said, giving a little regal bow of his head that made Hosea exhale a laugh despite himself. “Now lets go and make a generous donation.”

The organisation had no name or sign, and Dutch had to ask several folks before being pointed towards the right building, but the good people there were just as surprised as they were grateful for the monetary donation from two benevolent businessmen. They were a little more hesitant in accepting the valuables, but Hosea spun them a yarn about old stock and market value and how the pawn shop across the street would give them a fair price, and they were smart enough not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

When they stepped back onto the New Orleans streets, darkness had begun to settle in as the sun sunk below the tall buildings. The street lamps were lit in sickly orange, giving them long shadows as they walked.

“Where to now, Mr Matthews?” Dutch asked jovially, as they wandered the streets like they owned them, like they had all the time in the world to explore them.

“Wherever there’s music.” Hosea smiled at him, a sense of adventure driving his feet forward. The parade on the main street had long since ended, but music wasn’t hard to find. The festivities seemed to be continuing long into the night, and Hosea led them towards the street where music was still resonating from. 

They arrived in an area of the city that seemed to be tucked away from the rest, on a street corner. The music was coming from inside a small and run-down but cheerful saloon with its doors swung wide open, light and sound pouring out. There seemed to be more people outside than there were inside; a small gathering of folks of all kinds, dancing and drinking and merry-making in the street.

“Well I think you found the party.” Dutch stated, leaning into Hosea’s side to give him a nudge. “Happy Mardi Gras, folks!” He called to the assembly with open arms, who all replied in kind, raising drinks and waving.

“Dance with me.” Hosea said.

Dutch didn’t respond at first, as though he hadn’t really heard. When Hosea’s words finally reached him, his head snapped around to look at him. He looked disbelieving, almost confused.

“What?” He clarified, quietly.

Hosea shrugged coyly, nerves creeping in suddenly that he forcibly had to shake off, as he offered Dutch his hand and repeated himself.

“Dance with me.”

Dutch stared at him for a long while, and then seemed to reach for him but he paused, hand hovering as his eyes scanned the people in the street. None of whom seemed to be paying attention to them, too caught up in their own revelries. Two of the women were dancing together, giggling to each other, and Hosea was fairly confident that these folks wouldn’t care less if two men decided they wanted to dance together on Mardi Gras.

Hosea took Dutch’s hand and pulled him in.

Dutch staggered a little, tripping over his own feet as Hosea stepped to the music. The music was fast and the dancing was clumsy, far from the careful waltz Hosea knew. Dutch still looked in a mild state of shock, but he didn’t let go of Hosea’s hand, following his steps a second behind. And when Hosea spun him in a circle, he finally smiled. He beamed, and he laughed. Hosea’s chest expanded as he watched him loosen up and let go a little, moving with him this way and that and forgetting about the people around them.

“I’ve never danced like this before.” Dutch admitted, but whatever sort of dance it was he picked it up quickly, and it was his turn to whirl Hosea around in a circle.

“Me either.” Hosea laughed “I think the trick is to make it up as you go and not give a damn.” They both laughed in a breathless way, and they seemed to step closer to one another in unison. Hosea’s free hand settled carefully on Dutch’s hip, and Dutch’s hand came to rest on Hosea’s shoulder. The warmth of it radiated through his shirt, his touch was surprisingly light but it made Hosea dizzy. They looked at each other, finding themselves in uncertain territory, words caught in their respective throats. 

A sudden, rumbling boom rolled through the city and their heads turned skyward. Thunder.

Hosea felt the rain before it came. The air felt charged and heavy for a moment, and he let go of Dutch’s hand to hold his palm up to the sky. A second roll of thunder sounded, loud and echoing, as though it was coming from all around. The other dancers seemed unperturbed; to Hosea’s surprise they actually began to woop and cheer, as the first fat drops began to fall. They landed heavy on Hosea’s palm, splashing on the cobblestones. At first they fell slow and sparse, and then suddenly all at once, cascading down upon them. The small crowd cheered and clapped, and the music played on. Some ducked inside the saloon for cover but most stayed, whirling and dancing in the downpour.

Dutch and Hosea looked at one another, and burst into a fit of laughter all over again. The rain soaked their clothes in seconds but Hosea couldn’t begin to care as they continued their dance, swinging each other around in circles and spirals, kicking up the rainwater with their boots. Hosea couldn’t stop laughing, he was giddy with it. Their dancing became uncoordinated and clumsy, and they practically collapsed into each other, feet slipping on the wet ground. They held onto each other’s forearms to steady themselves, rain-soaked and dizzy, laughter dying down as they clung to one another for a moment. 

Hosea found breathing a little harder as he looked at Dutch, and he knew it wasn’t the weather to blame. The rain had made his red linen shirt cling to his body, outlining the contours of soft muscle in his arms and chest, and it had loosened the pomade from his dark hair. A single, perfectly defined wet curl had fallen by his eyes and Hosea couldn’t stop staring it at it, thinking about reaching out and wrapping it around his finger.

Dutch stared right back. His eyes roamed over where Hosea’s rain-drenched shirt clung to his narrow frame and defined his collarbones, and finally came back up to his face to linger on his eyes, where tiny rain droplets had caught in his long fair lashes. He drew himself closer to Hosea, eyes now on his lips as he leant in, but Hosea acted on instinct and put a hand flat on his chest to hold him at bay.

He looked at his own hand on Dutch’s chest, keeping him at arm's length, always at arm's length, and his heart beat loud in his chest as he wondered why. _Why?_ What was it about Dutch that made him hesitate, that made anxious snakes coil inside his ribcage? It wasn’t that Dutch was a man, not at all. Hosea had had his fair share of trysts with men, and he was hardly shy about it.

No. It was simply the fact that it was _Dutch._

This man. This man who had, within hours of them meeting, seen through Hosea’s lone wolf act for the bullshit that it was. Who had forced Hosea to confront his loneliness, offered him the companionship he so secretly, desperately needed. This man with his bright mind and bright ideas and true heart. Hosea wanted to share everything with him. He wanted to take him by the hand and show him the God damn world, and _oh_ the things he could show him. He was the spark to Hosea’s tinder.

He knew why he hesitated. It was because they stood upon a precipice, and Hosea knew that if they let themselves freefall over the edge, there would be no going back. They would become inextricably bound for life. Two halves of one thing. But as much as that thrilled and frightened him in equal measure, Hosea couldn’t see any other way. He didn’t want any alternative.

“Hosea-” Dutch spoke softly, like a plea, grounding him back in the present. His hands were on Hosea’s elbows, warm and strong. Hosea breathed a sigh and felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Dutch was so close now, he could feel the warmth radiating from him, see the rivulets of rain running down his cheeks and off the sharp line of his jaw. 

Hosea’s hand on Dutch’s chest shifted, grabbing a fistful of wet linen and tugging as he walked them both a few steps backwards, into the small gap between buildings and away from onlookers. Their eyes were firmly trained on each other’s mouths and Dutch’s hands shifted to his back, arms wrapping around him to bring them chest to chest until finally, their lips met. 

The kiss was soft, but desperate. Months of yearning and denial condensed into this single moment. Hosea tasted rainwater and sweat, and his free hand moved upwards to tangle in Dutch’s hair, winding those curls around his lithe fingers like he’d wanted to for much longer than he realised. The way Dutch kissed him back was reverential, his lips pressing against Hosea’s in soft, tender motions. But the way his hands gripped at Hosea’s back gave away his desperation, clutching at him so fiercely that he was almost shaking. Dutch opened his mouth and Hosea took the invitation, pressing his tongue in until it stroked against Dutch’s, at which the other man gave a soft, shivering sigh.

“Hosea.” He whispered again, parting the kiss. Hosea touched heir foreheads together, nosing into his cheek as they both caught their breaths. The world around them was all but forgotten, the other dancers had since given up and gone inside to escape the downpour. The rain itself seemed to have eased though, leaving heavy drips from the gutters echoing in the empty street. Hosea shifted, so that he could hold Dutch’s face in both hands, still keeping him close. He looked at him, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones, meeting those deep brown eyes with bravery, and adoration. He had been a fool to deny them both of this for so long. Hosea kissed him again, firm and sure and sweet. He kissed him the way he felt Dutch deserved to be kissed, and he was almost alarmed when he felt how Dutch trembled in response.

“Dutch?” He asked, his voice brought low, pulling away to look him over. Dutch just smiled wide at him, as another shiver ran through him.

“Cold.” He replied, jaw chattering slightly. Hosea laughed breathlessly, putting his hands on Dutch’s shoulders and squeezing. The heat of the day had faded into a cool night and they were both soaked to the bones, it was no wonder a chill was setting in. “We better get ourselves dry-” He began but words halted, as a realisation struck him and he felt his own face fall slightly, before he was grinning like a fool again. “Dutch.”

“What?”

“We forgot to get ourselves a room.”

Dutch blinked at him a moment, before he slowly began to laugh. He dropped his forehead onto Hosea’s shoulder and Hosea chuckled, running his hands up his back and feeling him shiver against him. They had been so caught up in the excitement the moment they got off the train, they had forgotten entirely about looking for a place to sleep for the night. All the main hotels were probably full.

“I doubt anyone will have a room for a pair of rain-sodden fools.” Dutch mumbled against him. Hosea held him, and felt like a prize idiot for being afraid of holding him before.

“We’ll find somewhere.” Hosea assured him, detangling himself from Dutch’s arms. Dutch seemed to chase the contact, reluctant to let him go now that he knew embracing him was an option. Hosea let him linger as long as possible, letting Dutch catch his hand, letting their fingers brush until they parted, as Hosea crossed the road to head towards the little run-down saloon. 

A man had stepped outside to smoke a cigarette in peace now that the rain had ceased. He had flawless dark skin and was clean shaven, wearing a bright red bow tie. Hosea waved to him to catch his eye, as he and Dutch emerged from the shadows, no doubt looking like drowned alley cats.

“Pardon me sir.” He asked, exerting the full force of his charms “I don’t suppose you know if there’s anywhere that’ll have a room for the night for me and my friend here?”

Dutch shook out his hair like a wet dog, and the man looked between the two of them with a small smile.

“On Mardi Gras and all wet like that? You’d be lucky!” He laughed, exhaling smoke up into the night sky “But, I reckon The Mariposa wouldn’t mind taking a pair of fellas like you though. Take two lefts and a right.” He pointed down the street “And tell Miss Winnie that Tobias says hello. She’ll look after you.” Hosea grinned.

“Well thank you, Tobias. I shall pass on my regards. Good evening to you and a happy Mardi Gras.”

Hosea shared a look with the other man, a knowing glance that if it weren’t for his years in the theatres and music halls he would have missed entirely and they went on their way, with Dutch looking perhaps just a little shy behind him. The streets were mostly quiet now, as they walked shoulder to shoulder, purposefully brushing against each other just for the sake of being close. Their boots echoed on wet stone, and when Dutch gave an audible shiver Hosea placed a comforting hand onto his back.

The Mariposa was an even smaller and more ramshackle establishment than the one they had just come from, but they certainly didn’t have the luxury of being picky. The woman at the desk, Miss Winnie, seemed equally annoyed and amused to hear that Tobias had sent them, but she produced a room key for them non the less.

“Last room, you gentlemen better count yourselves lucky. Single bed though.” She said, waggling the key.

“We’ll take it.” Hosea said without hesitation, sliding the money across the desk towards her. Enough for the room and a generous tip.

“We are more than grateful, Ma’am.” Dutch managed to get out, between his chattering teeth. Miss Winnie just rolled her eyes, slapped the key into Hosea’s palm and shooed them on their way.

The stairs creaked as they ascended, and their room was cramped with a single bed, a chair and a washstand, but most importantly there was a fireplace. Hosea dropped his bag and headed straight to it to start it up, while Dutch locked the door and began to peel off his boots.

“We’ll have to get out of these wet clothes.” Hosea told him, looking over his shoulder.

“I know.” Dutch replied, looking at him across the room. 

Hosea stood once he was satisfied with the way the fire was crackling away, he yanked off his wet boots, tossing them across the room. Dutch came to join him by the fire, holding out his hands to the flames and shivering again as the warmth washed over him. Hosea dragged the lone chair in the room in front of the fireplace, so that they could drape their wet things across it. He tugged off his necktie and set it over the back of the chair, and got to work on his shirt buttons while Dutch did the same. 

They turned to each other, gravitating like moths to flame, and they each watched the other undress. They had bathed together before of course, seen the other in various states of dress and undress during their time together. But this was different, and Hosea wasn’t going to trick himself into thinking that it wasn’t. He watched unabashed, as Dutch slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his dark swirl of chest hair and the soft muscle of his abdomen. Dutch’s gaze was fixed on Hosea with his lips slightly parted, looking at him in that open, adoring way that made Hosea feel vulnerable. He didn’t shy though, he peeled off his own sodden shirt, laying it on the chair next to Dutch’s slightly larger one. Hosea was the first to unbutton his trousers and gracelessly wriggle out of them as the fabric was stuck to his legs. Dutch’s quiet laughter broke the slight tension that had formed, and Hosea watched with amusement as Dutch struggled out of his jeans the same way. They laid their trousers and their socks out flat on the floor in front of the fire, side by side.

Stripped down to their underthings, they stood and faced each other again. The rain had soaked down through every layer. Hosea shrugged his off, not breaking eye contact, and laid them carefully on the chair. Dutch followed. They both seemed to break their gaze at the same time, as they stood naked before each other. Hosea’s eyes journeyed up and down Dutch’s body, taking in the sight of this beautiful man, his shapely thighs, the trail of dark hair that led down his stomach to between his legs, the muscled expanse of his chest.

Hosea wanted to reach out and touch him, and now there was no fear stopping him from doing so. He laid his hand on Dutch’s chest, pushing his fingers up through his chest hair and stopping over where his beating heart sat. His skin was still damp.

Dutch’s own hands seemed to hover unsure, and Hosea guided a hand gently to his hip. Dutch touched him and sighed, stroking his thumb across Hosea’s bare skin.

“Dutch-” Hosea breathed, stepping closer until their bare chests touched. It was Dutch who leant in though to trap him in a kiss, his other hand cupping the back of Hosea’s head gently to crush their mouths together. It was desperate and hungry, far more so than their kiss in the street. Their arms wrapped around each other in a fierce embrace, somehow trying to hold the other even closer. Dutch felt almost feverishly warm against Hosea, and as they kissed deeply, tongues exploring each other’s mouths, Hosea felt him tremble again.

“Dutch.” He repeated, pulling back to look at his face “You’re still shivering.”

“I’m fine.” Dutch dismissed him, pressing small determined kisses across Hosea’s cheeks. A second, more violent shudder ran through him though and suddenly he let Hosea go to turn his head to the side and give a mighty sneeze.

“Dutch.” Hosea said, more insistent this time. He took Dutch’s face in his hands again, to tilt it up to look at him. There was a definite flush to his face, but Hosea hazarded it wasn’t just from their kissing.

“I’m _fine_ , Hosea.” Dutch argued, which was not helped by the way he shivered again. Hosea put the back of his hand to Dutch’s forehead, feeling the heat that was radiating from his skin.

“Sweet thing.” Hosea said, soft and a little bit amused, “You’re sick.”

Dutch gave him a lazy smile “If I say you’re right, will you call me that again?”

“No.” Hosea grinned back, bringing Dutch’s forehead to his lips to kiss it “Get to bed and get yourself warm.”

“But,” Dutch began, nosing into his cheek and brushing their lips together “This-”

“Can wait.” Hosea interrupted him, but allowed them a kiss, or two, or three. He stepped back and pushed Dutch’s unruly hair out of his face, tucking loose curls behind his ears. “There will be all the time in the world for this Dutch, ain’t no rush. But right now you need to get warm and sleep this off before that fever sets in.”

Dutch sighed in defeat and nodded. He backed towards the bed, trying to drag Hosea with him, but Hosea slipped from his grasp to grab a handkerchief from his satchel and soak it in cold water at the washstand. Dutch laid down on the low single bed, shifting up as close to the wall as possible to make room for the both of them. Hosea sat on the bed, laying the cold wet cloth against Dutch’s forehead, eliciting a sigh from him.

“How’s that?”

“Good.” Dutch replied with closed eyes, holding his arms open. Hosea shifted to lay down next to him on his side, to try and make the most of the narrow bed. Dutch draped an arm over his waist, and he felt like a furnace next to Hosea but at least his shivering had stopped. They looked at each other in the dim firelight, eyes finding each other in the gloom, neither speaking. 

Hosea thought on his own words he had just said, how they had all the time in the world. He hadn’t even questioned it, he knew it to be true. The future stretched endlessly before them, where no matter what else happened, the two of them being a unit was a constant truth. They had all the time in the world to explore each other, to get to know every corner of the other’s mind and every inch of their skin. It made Hosea’s heart stutter, that mix of thrill and fear again.

“Hosea.” Dutch mumbled with his eyes closed, fighting sleep for a moment more.

“Mm?” Hosea answered.

“You mean that? About all the time in the world?”

Hosea blinked a moment, stunned. That they had been lying here thinking about the exact same thing.

“Of course.” Hosea replied, reaching over to lightly brush his knuckle down Dutch’s cheek and to his lips, where Dutch sleepily kissed it.

“I think I could face forever,” Dutch said, hardly above a whisper, “If I had you by my side.” 

Hosea felt like the air had been punched from his lungs. He looked at Dutch, gazing at his handsome profile in the low light. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he heard Dutch begin to softly snore.

Hosea smiled at him, an almost painful fondness in his chest. He laid down his head, burying his face into the crook of Dutch’s shoulder.

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first rdr fic and my first vandermatthews! I can only hope I did a half-decent job, the standard of fic for this pairing is just incredible.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments are endlessly appreciated. I just wanted to write them having an uninterrupted angst-free good time, is that so much to ask? I hope this served as a soothing balm for the soul. I don't even know if this is my personal headcanon for their first kiss really, I just became enamoured with the idea of them dancing in the rain and then my partner nagged me daily until I sat down and wrote it.
> 
> Please forgive any creative liberties I have taken with regards to geography, I haven't set foot in the states since a disastrous family holiday to Disney Florida when I was five years old. If I have made any truly egregious and unforgiveable errors please let me know! Also I know that St. Denis is technically the in-game equivalent of New Orleans but we're ignoring that for the sake of this fic.
> 
> Thank you to Beq for beta editing, and for letting us drag you into caring about these characters via osmosis when you haven't even played the game. You the best.  
> Thank you to my partner Samn for convincing me to write this in the first place, and if you're not already following them for their vandermatthews art you totally should [here.](https://twitter.com/SamnDoesArt)  
> And hi to all my new vandermatthews nation mutuals as well! You're such a lovely, enthusiastic bunch.
> 
> I'm on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/hobbitzilla) if you wanna come and talk my ear off about these two, and I've also got a self indulgent [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3hG6dvg69UwB9Bn3tY8mhI?si=KEZBiosYRn-6xZZYImJNUw) if that's your thing. I'll be taking a break from fic writing while I give my original writing work some attention, but hopefully there will be more vandermatthews fic from me in the future.
> 
> Have a lovely day <3


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